Hooked, But Holding on
⏱ 5 min read
“You’re eight weeks pregnant.”
The words hit like a punch. Amber stared blankly, the nurse’s voice fading behind the roar in her ears. She was seventeen, still in her first semester at the University of Minnesota. Far from home. Far from safety. And very, very far from prepared.
Amber never planned for a one-night stand to change her entire life.
She was the good girl from Idaho, a scholarship student majoring in psychology, trying her best to blend in on a campus full of louder, bolder teens. That fall semester, everything had felt new. Liberating. Dangerous in the way freedom always is when you’ve never tasted it before.
Nick Lawson was the ice hockey team’s golden boy. Twenty, tall, tattooed, reckless. He’d winked at her at a post-game party, handed her a drink, and whispered something she didn’t even remember now — only the way it made her feel. Wanted. Grown.
The next morning, he was gone.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t tell anyone — not even her roommate, Tasha — until the nausea started. Then the dizziness. Then the missed period.
Two pink lines later, she sat in the campus clinic with shaking hands and a heartbeat louder than the ticking clock on the wall.
“You still have options,” the nurse had said gently. “You’re young. You can still—”
“No,” Amber interrupted. “It’s my baby.”
The nurse looked surprised, but nodded. “Then let’s talk next steps.”
Amber nodded, even though she had no idea what any of those were.
She told Tasha, her roommate, a few days later.
“Wait—Nick? Like… hockey captain Nick?”
Amber nodded, chewing on her lip.
“Girl. You need to tell him.”
“I don’t even think he remembers my name.”
Tasha crossed her arms. “That may be true. But this baby deserves the truth.”
Tasha was the one who made sure Nick found out.
She messaged someone on the hockey team’s group chat and said Amber needed to talk to him. That it was serious. Not gossip. Not drama. Just real.
Nick showed up outside the dorm two days later, hoodie up, hands in pockets.
“I heard,” he said quietly. “Is it true?”
Amber didn’t blink. “Yes.”
He paled. “And you’re sure it’s—”
“Yours? You were the only one.”
A long pause. “Are you… keeping it?”
She nodded.
He looked stunned. Then, softer: “Can I be part of it?”
Amber narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I want to. Because I should’ve treated you better. Because I don’t want to be the guy who disappears again.”
Amber didn’t say anything. She didn’t believe him. Not yet.
The next twist came without warning.
Her parents showed up on campus one Friday afternoon, carrying snacks and smiles and that old, nervous energy.
“We missed you,” her mom said. “Surprise!”
Amber’s heart dropped.
She closed the dorm door and whispered, “I’m pregnant.”
The air changed.
Her dad’s face tightened.
Her mom sat down slowly.
“You’re seventeen,” she said. “You’ve thrown your life away.”
Her father stood, angry now. “Is this why we worked so hard? For you to get knocked up before midterms?”
“You don’t understand—”
“Oh, we understand,” he snapped. “You’ve embarrassed us.”
Amber’s voice cracked. “I made a mistake. But I’m not going to erase it just to make you feel better.”
They left without another word.
Amber cried for an hour. Then wiped her face, pulled on a hoodie, and went to class.
Because life kept going — even if she didn’t feel ready to.
A week later, her phone buzzed. A message from her dad.
I saw your baby photo today. You were wearing that blue knitted cap your mom made.
Amber’s hands trembled.
We’re not ready to forgive the situation. But we’re trying. That baby is still our grandchild.
At her next appointment, Nick was there. Sweaty from practice, out of breath.
“I want to be better,” he said. “For both of you.”
The nurse smiled gently as Amber lay down. Nick held her hand.
Then, on the screen — flickering like a spark — was the baby’s heartbeat.
Amber looked at it, stunned.
Then at Nick.
Then back again.
It wasn’t the end.
It was just the beginning.
💬 Comment Question:
Do you think teen parents can rewrite their future, or are they always defined by their past?